


waffles

by gayprentiss



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Degradation, Dom!Spencer, Dom/sub, F/M, Fluff, He is whipped, Smut, Spanking, also Domestic Soft Spencer, bratty!reader, sub!Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:48:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25583143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayprentiss/pseuds/gayprentiss
Summary: in which you're pouting about spencer leaving for work, so he puts you in your place.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 230





	waffles

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally posted on my Tumblr @klaushargreevesofficial, so feel free to find me there :)

“spencer, shut up,” you mumble groggily, waking up to the sound of him speaking as if you weren’t sleeping right next to him. eyes still closed, you flop your arm across the bed to hit him gently, shocked to feel an empty bed. his side of the sheets are still warm, but the brief panic of being alone is enough to propel you into an upright position, rubbing your eyes open. spencer is leaning against the doorframe of your shared bedroom, chatting on the phone. when his eyes met yours, he grins and greets you in a short wave.

“okay, i’ll see you then.” spencer wraps up his phone call, maintaining eye contact with you. “good morning, lovey,” he addresses you for the first time as he slips his phone into his pants pocket. it’s then you notice he’s already dressed in his work attire. you feel underdressed, literally, in only a pair of underwear and a ratty old t-shirt. “how’d you sleep?”

he takes a seat on the edge of the bed as you crawl to meet him there. “good,” you hum, resting your head against his shoulder. “would’ve been better if someone didn’t hog all the sheets…again.” before he can answer, defending himself, your face situates into a pout and you continue. “i would be better right now if i didn’t think that you’re leaving for work soon.”

it’s not fair, you think, that he always has to leave, especially on days when he looks so goddamn pretty. the sun is beginning to peek over the horizon and into your bedroom’s window, highlighting the highest points of spencer’s features. cheekbone connects to jaw connects to neck, and you’re desperate to unbutton his shirt and run your fingers across his clavicle.

spencer runs a hand through your hair in an attempt to smooth your unruly bedhead. “wheels up in an hour, baby.” you huff at this, and he shoots you a warning look before continuing, “i’ve got some time to kill before then, i can make you waffles?”

you’re not surprised by his sweet offer, but it fills you with warmth. as you’re considering it, spencer watches you intently. the air in the bedroom feels different than it usually does on days he’s leaving, and he has an inkling that it might be hard to leave today. you peer up at him through low eyelids, bottom lip puffed out more than usual, and he knows what’s coming out of your mouth next.

you rub your eyes. “yeah, waffles would be nice, daddy.”

spencer visibly deflates at the pet name, letting out a soft chuckle. “you’re gonna make it really difficult to leave today, bunny, you know that?” you knew. somewhere deep in your half-asleep brain, you had convinced yourself that if you were as bratty and clingy as possible, there was no way your boyfriend could get on that plane. 

spencer stands from the bed. you hold your arms up, desperate for him to carry you to the kitchen. you bat your eyelashes. instead of indulging you, he grips your chin gently, but with force. “i know what you’re doing, y/n,” he says in a low tone. the gravel of his voice suggests a no-nonsense attitude, but you’ve never been one to play by the rules. you take a split-second to make a decision that might sacrifice the homemade waffles. and then you stick your tongue out at spencer, a deep scowl on your face.

the simplicity of the action might go unnoticed to some, but to your attentive boyfriend, it’s the ultimate act of defiance. “i just don’t want you to leave!” you say petulantly, trying to pull your jaw out of his firm grip, squirming against him.

“you fucking brat,” he says simply, letting go of your face to redirect his grip to your wrists. he’s mad, pissed. he looks so beautiful as he pulls you up off of the bed harshly, a vein popping out of his forehead. you only see that vein when he’s angry or turned on, and you’re overwhelmed with the urge to smooth your fingers over it. “daddy offered to make you waffles before he left, and instead of being grateful, you decide to be selfish and pout.” you’re silent as he drags you out of the bedroom, still struggling against his grip. “you know i have to leave. it never changes. it will always be the same. and you can be a good girl about it, or you can be a brat. which one are you choosing today?” his voice is laced with frustration. he’s still got your wrists held in one of his strong hands and you can’t seem to get even one hand pulled out.

“a good girl,” you say, but your defiant tone contradicts your words. spencer finally frees your hands, taking a seat on the living room couch. you take the millisecond his hands aren’t on you to attempt a mad dash away from him and back to the bedroom, but his reflexes are too quick and he grabs your waist with enough force to bruise. you let out a loud whine, and spencer, having complete control, flips you over onto his lap, ass in the air.

you’re mumbling curse words under your breath, aware that your position means you’re in for a hell of a spanking. using one hand on the small of your back to keep you in your spot, spencer grabs your hair and lifts your head. “hey,” he whispers, gently, a change from his original tone. “i love you. red, yellow, or green?” he breaks his dominant facade to check in with you.

you grin. you love him so much. you’re dreading how much he’s going to wreck you, but you admit that you’re into it. “green, daddy. i love you too,” you answer in a similar soft tone.

he groans. “you’re gonna kill me, little one.” he rubs his hand over your ass, softly, then grips it forcefully. you let out a tiny sigh. spencer begins leaving stinging handprints along your backside, encouraged by your soft sniffles. he spanks with all of his strength, and mentally you count twenty before he stops. “you know why i’m spanking you, right baby?”

you nod in response. normally spencer would clock you for not using your words, but he recognizes that he’s working on a timeframe. in order to make it on time from your apartment to the airport, he’d have to leave in exactly 23 minutes, he calculates quickly.

“we’ll do ten more and then i’m done with you,” he concedes, and you’re pleasantly surprised by how easy he let you off. 30 feels like nothing, especially considering you had just tried to run from him. your elation is short-lived however, when you feel him moving underneath you. with your face pressed into the couch, you can’t see anything, but the sound of his belt buckle is unmistakable. spencer sees your back muscles tense upon hearing it, and lets out a chuckle. “you thought it was gonna be easy, princess?”

you know better than to try and squirm away from him, but it’s tempting to. he smooths his hand over his previous marks gently, trying to provide some comfort before he continues with his torture. “tell me your color,” he demands.

“daddy please—” you attempt to bargain with him, but he’s not having it. 

“tell me your color.”

“it’s green, it’s green,” you rush out. you try to squeeze a plea in quickly. “daddy, not the belt please,” you whine, but before you can finish your cries spencer’s smacked your ass with the belt. your breath hitches and you choke out a sob.

“this is for being a bratty little girl,” he hits again, full force, and you’re bawling, tears soaking into your couch cushion. “you’ll feel this pain the whole time i’m gone and be reminded of daddy.” he pauses to wipe your eyes, then continues. the rhythmic smack of the leather against your skin is cathartic for spencer, and your sobs egg him on.

after another eight harsh smacks, he drops the belt, and plants multiple soft kisses on the curve of your ass down to your thighs. he sits you up in his lap and you wince at the pain, tears still pouring down your cheeks, chest heaving. “daddy’s little crybaby,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb against your bottom lip. spencer looks at you for a long moment, then gives an unusual request. “can i take a picture of you?”

you nod with a sniffle, all of your violent crying rubbing your throat too raw to speak. you know you look so fucked out, and spencer hadn’t even touched you. his thumb is still perched on your pouted lip, and you gently pull it into your mouth, sucking softly as spencer fumbles for his phone. “you’re so pretty, love,” he tells you as he snaps a photo. “you’re a good girl, took your punishment so well.” you’re tired, and bury your head in his chest by way of responding. spencer checks his phone. ten minutes til he has to leave.

“love, i’ve got to leave soon, so let me put some lotion on you before then.” he picks you up, being mindful of your wounds, and carries you to the bedroom. he lays you down on your stomach and you look up at him adoringly.

“i love you, spencer,” you say, watching him rummage in the drawers for the lotion.

“i love you too,” he replies, rubbing the soothing cream onto your backside gently. “take it easy today, my love. i went hard on you.” you nod. “you did so good, though.”

you beam at his praise and steal a glance at his clock. “i’ll miss you,” you mumble, realizing your time together is almost up. spencer runs his hands through your hair, pulling it back into two loose braids quickly. he always braids your hair after a punishment, and it makes you feel like you’re glowing. no matter how rough he is, you’re always reminded of his true disposition by how gently he handles you afterwards.

“i’ll miss you more, my sweet sweet girl.” he presses a firm kiss to your lips then heads out of the bedroom.

“call every night! and promise you’ll be home!” you shout from the bed, hearing him pick up his keys.

“i‘ll call every night, lovey,” he calls back. the front door unlocks. his footsteps return to the bedroom, hastily. he wants to tell you this part in person. “i’ll be home, baby. promise. gonna be super safe.”

you beam at him from your spot on the bed and shoo him away, begging him not to be late.

spencer has early mornings with the BAU, so you doze back off with no guilt after he leaves. when you finally wake back up, ready to start your day, you’re met with three things. one: a dull, throbbing pain on your asscheeks. two: a growling stomach. and three: a text from spencer with a photo attached.

> **spence** _(9:16 am)_ : look how pretty my girl is. i’m gonna miss your face.

the photo of you is mesmerizing. tears cling to your lashes, making them dark and droopy. your eyes are glazed over, staring at spencer behind the camera, rather than the lens. your cheeks are hollowed out around his thumb, and his other fingers are splayed against your jaw. you think you look tired. you think you look like you’ve been, well, spanked. but it fills you with butterflies knowing spencer thinks that you, even in your most vulnerable state, are pretty. he’s in awe of you, so you make an effort to be in awe of you too.

> **you** _(10:05)_ : i miss u already spence :-(

you’re increasingly aware of how hungry you are, feeling a pang of regret that you didn’t opt into a nice, domestic morning with spencer making you waffles. maybe when he got home he would make you some, you thought. as if reading your mind, another text from spencer pings your phone.

> **spence** _(10:07)_ : waffles when i get home, baby

you grin.


End file.
